


Wicked

by punkhale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aromantic Peter Hale, Bathroom Sex, Clubbing, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkhale/pseuds/punkhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Peter wanted was a relationship. The idea of holding hands while walking down the sidewalk and making heart eyes at another person made him want to throw up. It was bad enough he had to watch his nephew do it with that Stilinski kid (seriously Derek?) --the last thing he wanted was that kind of gross affection turned on him.<br/>Peter didn’t need a relationship, he needed to get laid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queerly_yours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerly_yours/gifts).



> Inspired by a conversation on twitter with Leigh about aromantic/bisexual Peter Hale which devolved into him picking up Chris Argent at a gay club. And now here we are.

Derek thought he needed a relationship, someone to get all lovey dovey with and help temper his moods, but Derek was an idiot. The last thing Peter wanted was a relationship. The idea of holding hands while walking down the sidewalk and making heart eyes at another person made him want to throw up. It was bad enough he had to watch his nephew do it with that Stilinski kid _(seriously Derek?)_ \--the last thing he wanted was that kind of gross affection turned on him.

Peter didn’t need a relationship, he needed to get laid.

Wicked was a gay club a few towns over from Beacon Hills. Peter hadn’t been in ages and it was a longer drive than he would have preferred, but there was no way he was going to The Jungle. The last thing he wanted was to be surrounded by sweaty teens, especially ones that he probably knew. He liked his private life to be just that, private.

The club was teeming with people when he got there, the thump of the music’s bass vibrating through his feet as he approached the door. Usually he hated the loud music, his werewolf sensitive ears rebelling against it, but tonight his appetite went deeper than his discomfort. Tonight he would brave the noise and the odor of sweat that permeated everything.

He made the bar his first stop. Werewolves couldn’t get drunk of course, but the bar was where the easier prey was. As much as he liked a chase, tonight wasn’t the night for one. He wanted to find an attractive man and get him alone and he didn’t want to waste time trying to grind up on one on the dancefloor.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked. He was a buff twenty-something year old in a shirt that was a size too small and dark hair that was gelled straight up. _Meathead,_ he thought to himself.

“Rum and coke,” he said out loud, flashing a salacious grin. He didn’t want the bartender but he knew what hi grin could do to people, women and men alike. If he was lucky he might not even have to pay for the drink.

He looked down the line of the bar, taking in the faces along it. Most of them were nervous looking barely legals, eyes on the dancefloor like they wanted to join in but were too afraid. Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They had no idea the kind of things that existed in the world, the things they should be afraid of. Dancing with another man didn’t even fall close to being on the list. If they knew they were sitting so close to a werewolf they’d probably race to the dancefloor to get away. The temptation to flash his eyes at one of them welled up but dissipated quickly. He wasn’t here to scare people, he was here to get a mouth on his cock.

Meathead slid his drink in front of him and he turned to flash another grin. The guy was giving him an appreciative look and Peter decided to use it to his advantage, leaning forward a bit, invading his space.

“What do I owe you?” he asked, running his finger along the rim of the glass.

The guys eyes went dark as he watched Peter’s finger and he swallowed hard.

“On the house,” he said, dragging his gaze back up to Peter’s. Peter pretended to be pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you,” he replied, dipping his finger into the drink. He brought it up to his mouth and licked off the sticky liquid, never breaking eye contact. The bartender watched him intently and Peter could smell the lust coming off of him. “What time do you get off?”

“One, but I have a break around eleven.”

“Excellent,” Peter said, lifting the glass up and taking a sip. “Maybe I’ll see you then.”

He had absolutely no intention of hooking up with some meathead bartender, but the meathead bartender didn’t have to know that. He winked and the guy smiled. “Maybe,” he said before moving to help someone else.

Peter let his gaze wander again, moving back down the line of occupied bar stools, until he caught sight of a familiar face. A face he had definitely not expected to see at a gay club twenty miles outside of Beacon Hills. Or any gay club for that matter. He’d have thought Chris Argent was too self-righteous, too uptight, to come to a place like Wicked.

For once he found himself thrilled to be wrong. What a nice little piece of blackmail this could serve to be.

Peter downed the rest of his drink and pushed the empty glass away from him. The alcohol warmed him briefly and then the sensation was gone, quickly metabolised by his werewolf genetics. Chris was at the other end of the bar, leaning over his drink and occasionally looking up at the press of bodies on the dancefloor. He hadn’t spotted Peter yet and he wanted the element of surprise on his side, shielding his body with other people as he approached. He slid into the empty seat next to him just as Chris looked up from his drink, eyes going wide.

Peter grinned again, a different kind of grin than the one he used on the bartender. This one was all wolf, purely predatory; the kind of grin whose meaning only Chris would understand out of everyone around them. Only Chris knew the danger that lurked under Peter’s human skin.

“Peter,” Chris said slowly, the surprise disappearing from his face as quickly as it had come.

“Chris,” Peter replied, amused.

“What are you doing here?”

“The same thing you’re doing here I imagine.”

Chris opened his mouth and closed it again, looking back down at his drink. He finished it in one gulp before looking back up at Peter. “I doubt that.”

“Oh? So you’re not here to find some guys hot little mouth to suck you off?” He kept his face straight, eyes trained on the hunter next to him.

Chris scowled. “Crass as always I see.”

“Avoiding the question as always I see.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, Chris still scowling while Peter waited for him to respond. Needling Chris Argent was one of his favourite activities and finding him alone at a gay club was just too good an opportunity to pass up. The sanctimonious werewolf hunter, descendant of the prestigious Argent line, was sitting around trying to muster up enough courage to go find some twink to get on his knees for him. It would have made Victoria Argent roll in her grave.

Peter was suddenly overcome with the desperate need to tear down all those self-righteous walls. The hunter was giving him a stony look, grip tight on his empty glass, and Peter _wanted._

“Come on,” he said, standing up from his barstool.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Chris said, not moving an inch.

Peter rolled his eyes. “So what, you’re going to sit here all night and watch a bunch of meatheads grind against each other while you drink yourself stupid?”

“I’ll do whatever I want. Leave me alone.”

“This isn’t what you want,” Peter said, stepping closer to him and leaning down so that their faces were only about a foot apart. The other man smelled like whiskey and the faint scent of cologne, something expensive and musky. And there, just underneath, was the smell of arousal. Bingo.

“What you want,” Peter continued, “is to lose yourself. To let go of all those silly little hunter inhibitions and let someone wreck you.” Chris’ pupils dilated and there was a sharp spike in the lust coming off of him. Peter straightened up and held out his hand to the other man. “So let’s go.”

Chris looked between the offered hand and the bar, his face unreadable, before locking eyes with Peter. They were dark and wild, and Peter could feel his body reacting, his dick starting to harden under the strain of the tight jeans he was wearing.

Chris stood but didn’t take his hand. Peter grinned and let him lead the way from the bar and towards the bathroom. Personally he would have gone for the exit, found a dark alley, but he knew if he didn’t let Chris call the shots there was no way he was going to get anywhere.

By pure luck there was an empty stall. Chris pushed him into it and locked it behind them. Peter had him pressed against it in no time, slotting their bodies together, thigh rubbing against the hard outline of Chris’ length. Chris groaned, hands coming up to grip at Peter’s hips, fingers digging in as their mouths found each other. The kiss was sloppy, all tongue and teeth, and it made Peter’s blood feel like liquid fire. When he’d left earlier that evening it had been with the intention to find someone to get on their knees for him, but with Chris pressed against him, moaning as they rutted, he wanted to be the one on his knees.

He found the button of Chris’ jeans easily, deftly undoing it and pulling the zipper down so he could cup the impressive bulge beneath his boxer briefs. Chris gasped and pulled away from their kiss, giving Peter the chance to lick a stripe up his exposed neck, gently biting down on his pulse point.

“I… I want-” Chris starts, his breathing heavy, voice caught in his throat.

“Shhh,” Peter soothed, running his fingers over the length of his cock. “I’ll take care of you. Just let go.”

Chris whined and Peter had to suppress his own groan. Who’d have thought it would be Chris Argent that would have him half on his way to coming with his jeans on?

Peter kissed him again, hard enough to bruise, before pulling away and dropping to his knees. He yanked down the other man’s pants, mouthing lightly as his clothed cock before pulling down his underwear too.

For a moment he just stared while Chris whined above him, fingers threading through Peter’s hair, holding on tight. Chris Argent’s dick was probably one of the most incredible things he’d ever seen, flushed and thick, just the right length to be buried in someone’s ass, with a patch of dark hair at the base.

Chris whined again and pulled on his hair some more, urging him on. Peter didn’t need anymore of an invitation, gripping the base of his cock and sliding his mouth over it. Chris groaned, deep and guttural, and Peter could feel his own cock getting painfully hard as he bobbed his head, tongue teasing the sensitive underside. The sounds of Chris panting above him urged him on, made him dizzy with lust as he licked and sucked and teased, one hand coming up to play with his balls.

“Fuck,” Chris swore, jerking his hips upwards so that he was fucking into Peter’s mouth. The tip of his cock hit the back of his throat and made his eyes water slightly but he held on, letting Chris use his mouth. It had been a long time since he’d let someone else control him and he found it strangely thrilling.

“I’m-I’m gonna come,” Chris choked out, hips stuttering. Peter gripped his ass, holding the other man close to him as he jerked and hot come spurted into his mouth and down his throat. Chris gasped above him, shaking while Peter held him there as long as he could before he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled off of his cock slowly, letting his tongue trail over the sensitive tip, come and saliva dripping down his chin.

“Fuck,” Chris swore again, looking down at him, blue eyes so dark they look like the night sky. Peter held eye contact with him while he stayed on his knees and undid his pants, dragging the tight fabric over his thighs. He pulled out his cock, hard and flushed red. He licked his hand, letting spit and come mingle together, and then brought it down to wrap around himself, pumping quickly while Chris watched. It didn’t take long for him to come, his head thrown back as he spilled himself over the bathroom floor. When he came back to himself Chris’ pants were still around his ankles and his own cock, although not hard again, was definitely showing signs of interest. Peter grinned up at him.

“I told you I’d take care of you. And now you’re going to take care of me.”

“I am?” Chris asked, and maybe it was supposed to sound incredulous but mostly it just sounded wrecked.

“Oh yes,” Peter replied. “You are going to take me home, take off all your clothes, and let me ride that pretty cock of yours until neither of us can feel our legs.”

He could hear Chris’ pulse speed up, his cock twitching, letting Peter know that he had won. He had undone the hunter and now he was his.

“Yes I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://punkhale.tumblr.com)


End file.
